


kiss and (don't) tell

by thefudge



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cunning Linguists (meant...both ways), F/M, Fake Kiss turns Real, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Snark, catching feelings, soundtrack: ever fallen in love by nouvelle vague & genghis khan by miike snow, yes there will be a tiny bit of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: "I think we should kiss. Just to level out the moral plane.” Both Veronica and Jughead find out about the Barchie kiss. But Jughead comes up with a way to fix it.





	1. transaction

**Author's Note:**

> SO. remember how in "gossip girl" season 4, dan and blair decide they should kiss just to see if they have any pesky feelings? and they're SO sure they won't get played??? WELL. this is that, except different scenario. but these two idiots are gonna learn! 
> 
> i should specify, i'm way behind on riverdale so forgive me if canonical stuff isn't 100% accurate. but let's face it, you're here for glorious (crack)ship. 
> 
> (also, i hate everyone who encouraged me on this path)

“I think we should kiss. Just to level out the moral plane.”

Veronica makes an admirable effort to keep her milkshake down, but she ends up coughing her lungs into a napkin anyway. When she re-emerges, cheeks slightly flushed, Jughead is still there, staring at her impassively, like he just proposed they share a pencil.

“Are you peddling drugs again?”

“What? No.”

“Well, you’re clearly _taking_ them.”

He rolls his eyes aggressively. “I’m perfectly sober. Look, I know it sounds like an unorthodox idea, but -”

Veronica retrieves her compact mirror and checks for any damage. Her lipstick is slightly smeared, which makes her feel uneasy, given their current topic of discussion. “ _Unorthodox_? That’s putting it mildly.”

“ _But_ ,” he continues stubbornly, “it would offer us closure and it would ultimately make us better partners for Betty and Archie.”

Her eyebrows knit together in a way that tells him she is about to say something scathing. He beats her to it. “Consider the fact that we carry this resentment into our relationships and it affects our behavior in ways we can’t control. If we just kissed, we wouldn’t feel wronged anymore.”

Veronica sits back, folding her arms defensively. “So, we should kiss to get _over_ a kiss. Two wrongs don’t make a right, Jones.”  

“I didn’t say we’d make it _right_. I said we’d level out the moral plane, restore the balance.”

“You’ve been reading too much Kierkegaard,” she quips, trying to disarm him, but he sticks to his guns.

“It’s the best we can do. A pragmatic solution so we don’t end up obsessing over what happened.”

“You’re doing a _stellar_ job of not obsessing,” she drawls with a small smile. She is pretty sure he is just being his neurotic self and he’ll give up this ludicrous idea in the next five minutes or so.

But…but he doesn’t.

“Oh, _really_? Like you’re not acting up?” he shoots back. “You’ve been cold to Archie ever since he told you.”

“I haven’t! I actually forgave him and told him I appreciated his honesty –”

“Then why is he complaining to me you’re freezing him out?”

Veronica opens her mouth, and closes it helplessly. Her fingers start fidgeting with her pearl necklace. “Archie should know by now that my mood varies. It has nothing to do with his momentary infidelity.”

“So, you _do_ consider it infidelity,” Jughead concludes triumphantly.

Veronica’s eyes turn cold. “You boys sure like to gab about things that don’t concern you.”

“Archie’s my friend. Hell, _you’re_ my friend, against all odds. It concerns me. And I don’t want to screw things up with Betty again.”

Veronica pursed her lips. “You’d _definitely_ screw things up with her if you kissed me.”

“I disagree. It would mean nothing, and it would help us both get over it,” he insists with a logic that she tries not to follow. He always gets like this when he is seized by an idea, no matter how outlandish.

“I _am_ over it,” she insists, though a part of her spent a whole night trying to visualize the kiss, trying to picture the horrible movie reel of Betty and Archie alone in a car.

Jughead shakes his head, a lock of hair escaping his hat. “You mean you don’t wonder if it might happen again? If that kiss somehow started something between two childhood friends, a chain reaction that could lead to –”

Veronica slams her compact shut. “ _No_ , we’re not playing this insidious jealousy game.”

Jughead regards her coolly. “Jealousy, huh? That’s an interesting word.”

Veronica grinds her teeth. She honestly wants to toss her purse in his face.

“I’m not saying this is ideal,” he argues. “That jealousy might still be there afterwards. But this way, we’d have something of our own. It wouldn’t feel like we’re…”

“…on the outside,” she finishes for him. She hates the fact that she understands him.

Jughead nods, leaning across the table. “Exactly.”

She tries not to stare at his lips. Tries not to think about the fact that she might touch them with her lips. This is officially the _weirdest_ meal she’s had here and that’s saying a lot.

 “So, tell me when, where and how. It would help to set down a date.”

He sounds like he’s handling a dubious business transaction, as she duly informs him.

“It _is_ a transaction, in a way,” he argues. “And we’re going to be professional about it.”

“Very Southside Serpent of you.”

Jughead gives her a crooked smile. “If the jacket fits.”

 

 

Veronica is still reluctant about the whole thing, but they both agree that it can’t take place in public, because no one is meant to ever know about it. Including their significant others.

“Well, the Pembrooke’s out of the question. My father might _literally_ kill you. And no offense, but I don’t want to…kiss you in your dad’s trailer.”

The sentence alone makes her shudder.

Jughead concurs eagerly. “Yeah, I don’t want to associate my living quarters with that particular moment.”

Veronica finds it a little insulting the way he’s talking about their hypothetical kiss, but then she supposes there’s no other way to talk about it.

“I think we should do it in a car,” he suggests. “Just like Betty and Archie.”

There is a certain kind of poetry to it, she will give him that.

“Better make sure Cheryl’s not around to see us,” she quips, trying not to imagine the world of horror that such a discovery would unleash.

“We will. Betty and Archie weren’t planning to kiss, so they were sloppy. We’ll be careful.”

Veronica considers him for a moment. “Not to be an armchair psychologist, but you are strangely…repressed about this whole thing.”

“The sooner we get it done, the better,” he insists with an eerie ferocity that conceals a lot more than he’s willing to show. Veronica knows he’s always been insecure about Archie, no matter how strong their friendship. He’s like her in that sense. They both have a hard time processing raw emotion.

She thinks, _I guess I’m doing this for him too. He needs closure._

She’s certainly _fine_.

“You’re right,” she smiles, “the sooner, the better.”

They clinch their milkshake glasses.


	2. brooch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UM. yeah i can't even start talking about this chapters because FEELINGS and EMOTIONS. anyway. i'm so glad you're here for the ride!

Veronica has never had a fashion crisis like this. Usually, she doesn’t have a specific person in mind when she chooses her outfits. She’s hardly ever dressed up for Archie (he’s the _least_ picky of her boyfriends) and she believes it’s really passé to doll yourself up for a man.

But this is not about looking _hot_ , or your best, for that matter. This is about looking like you’re in charge. She doesn’t want to seem like she over-prepared for this weird experiment, but she doesn’t want to look sloppy either. It’s difficult to preserve this balance.

Normally, at this point she’d call Betty and ask for advice. But it would be rather _unseemly_ to consult her friend on what she should wear to kiss her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Because, let’s be real, Jughead and Betty are going to get back together by the end of the month, it’s only a matter of time.

_God, this is a terrible idea_ , she thinks as she pulls a cashmere sweater in front of her chest. But she’s a Lodge, and Lodges don’t chicken out.

 

 

The day for the deed is a sleepy Sunday. No one _really_ goes out on a Sunday. It’s the day before Monday and a reminder that another punishing week is about to start. Sunday makes everyone depressed. Hence, it's perfect for what they’re about to do. 

Veronica takes a taxi to the Shady Palm Motel, which is an inequity in and of itself. But they both agreed it’s the middle-point between Northside and Southside, no matter how undignified.

She strings her purse over her elbow and walks into the neon-lit parking lot of the Motel with a grim expression on her face. As Jughead instructed her, she marches towards the last car in the lot.

Veronica recognizes the Chevrolet immediately. It’s the same one he drove for that misguided drag race. She can’t believe this. She struts towards the car angrily and yanks the door open.

“In what universe is it a good idea to drive Reggie’s car?”

“In the one where he brought it back to the shop,” he says by way of greeting, hands on the steering wheel. He looks just as happy to see her. 

“So, you just took it?”

“ _Borrowed_ it. He’ll be none the wiser.”

Veronica settles into the front seat, slamming the door shut. She smooths down her skirt and places her Louboutin bag over her knees.  “Well, I for one am thrilled that we can add larceny to the evening.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

 “Is that so? What do you think people will say if they see me and you in his car?”

“They won’t,” he replies, starting the engine. “Since we’re driving to a remote location.”

“That makes me feel _so_ much better.”

Jughead glances at her, sizing her up from head to toe, making her clutch her bag a little harder.

“You’re dressed for a funeral,” he observes.

“Appropriate, no?” she smiles, eyes narrowed.

His mouth quirks up in either humor or distaste – it could be both with him. He drives out of the parking lot.

 

 

Veronica stares out the window calmly, wishing she could coordinate her interior as well as her exterior. She has perfected a very good facade over the years, but underneath her bluster, she is unsure and nervous. She _hates_ being nervous. All of this feels foreign – no, _alien_ to her. She never thought she’d be driving around illicitly with Jughead Jones. She’s never seen the appeal of “slumming” it and she’s not about to start now. This is all compounded by the fact that they’re venturing out of town in order to do something so wildly uncharacteristic of them that it borders on laughable.

Their current proximity doesn’t help. She can’t tell what he’s thinking. She steals glances at him from time to time, but if he feels any disturbance, he conceals it under a perpetual scowl.

She’s too proud to tell him to turn around. And he’s definitely too stubborn to let this go. It’s like they’re both rushing towards an oncoming avalanche.

Veronica heaves a sigh. “How much further? And can we turn on some music, at least?”

“Not much further,” he replies, ignoring her second request.

"Are you secretly a country music fan and afraid to tell me?" 

"I'm more of a Silence & Quiet fan. Ever heard of them? They're pretty big in Europe." 

Veronica snorts. She drums her fingers on the bag. “Aren't you a prize. Is this how all your dates with Betty went?”

“This isn’t a _date_.”

“Thanks for letting me know. I certainly couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Take solace in the fact that it'll be over soon,” he mutters, taking a left down an abandoned road behind a block of warehouses. They are clearly on the Southside of town. Veronica swallows a little as she surveys their surroundings in the falling light of dusk. 

“You’re safe with me, don't worry,” he adds, noticing her momentary panic.

Veronica bristles.  “I can take care of myself.”

Jughead nods sourly. “I didn’t imply otherwise.”

“We shouldn’t be arguing so much,” she points out. “Given what we’re about to do.”

“I’m not arguing. You’re the one who cares too much about her image.”  

Veronica scoffs. “I don’t care what anyone says about me as long as it isn’t true.”

It takes him a few moments to recognize the quote, because she said it so airily, like it belongs entirely to her. He shoots her a bemused look.

“You a Capote fan?”

Veronica smirks. “Actually, _he’s_ a fan of me.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. He fell right into that one, didn’t he? But his mouth quirks up again, almost against his will.

He finally pulls the brakes and parks the car behind what looks like an abandoned tool shed.

Veronica now wishes the drive had taken longer. She opens her bag and rummages through it for an object she doesn’t really need. Jughead turns the key in ignition and leans back, staring in front of him.

They’re both waiting for instructions from an invisible executive hand. 

Eventually, he clears his throat.

“Are you going to hold onto that thing all night?”

Veronica’s hand stills on the bag. “I’m just trying to find my phone.”

“Why? Do you want to immortalize this touching moment?” he drawls.

“No, I just want to make sure we clock it at under a minute,” she retorts, hoping the warmth in her cheeks is not yet visible.

“Just drop it there,” he says, nudging his head towards the backseat.

Veronica purses her lips. No one orders _her_ around. But her blood rushes a little, because he just did.  None of this is remotely familiar and a part of her is morbidly curious. 

She stretches forward, coming closer to him as she places her Louboutin carefully in the backseat. Her legs feel cold without the armor.

Jughead rolls back his Serpent jacket. She only now realizes she’s going to kiss a Serpent. If her Dad ever found out... He disapproves of Archie, but he would _torch_ Jughead. 

_It’s not too late to turn back_ , she thinks.

He turns half his body towards her and his mouth is set and determined, but his eyes flicker with something like doubt. They alternate between confidence and fear. Her face must reflect the same mixture of emotions.

They’re still too far apart. One of them will have to lean forward and pull the other person closer. Neither one makes a movement.

Veronica’s eyes lift to his hat. “I can’t kiss you with _that_ on.”

He frowns. “Let me guess. Fashion faux-pas.”

Veronica shakes her head. “You’re too… _you_ with it.”

He mulls over her request for a few moments. He hadn’t considered that. Maybe they _should_ distance themselves from their real-life personas.

“Fine,” he nods. “But you’re taking _that_ off.” He points to a large, glittering brooch pinned to her black sweater.

“What? This is a priceless antique–”

“Lodge.”

Her jaw clenches momentarily, but she caves in. She lifts her fingers to her chest and starts unpinning the brooch. It feels like putting down a shield. She places it on the dashboard and the encrusted jewels seem to wink at her.

Jughead removes his hat in one sweeping motion, stashing it in his back pocket. His unruly dark hair falls into his face and he runs a quick hand through it, trying to set it in place and failing.

Veronica doesn’t want to stare, but it’s so startling seeing him like this. He looks both older _and_ younger, like he’s the leader of the pack and one of the Lost Boys. Aesthetically speaking, he isn’t entirely…unappealing. She supposes it helps their circumstances that she doesn’t find him disgusting.

Their ritual undressing done, they are back to square one, except more vulnerable.

“So…did Archie tell you who kissed who first?” she ventures.  

Jughead shakes his head. “God, no.”

“Well then. How do you propose we proceed?”

“Both at the same time?” he asks, eyes trailing unconsciously to her mouth. Veronica fights the instinct to lick her lips. 

“I suppose…that works,” she replies, throat dry.

It’s ridiculous; this is hardly her first kiss. Why does it feel as terrifying as that?

She’s not paying attention when his fingers suddenly skirt her bare elbow, dragging her forward. Her skin feels like it’s made of glass. His touch is pressurized, almost painful, like he’s not used to doing this, but that can’t be true. He’s touched Betty more intimately many times. Veronica reaches out and grasps the lapel of his jacket. Their heads are getting closer and closer. Their noses are almost touching. Their quick breaths intermingle.

“Eyes closed or open?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“Have you ever kissed with your eyes open?” she asks, each word falling into his mouth.

“No… but if you want me to, I will.”

_If you want me to._

She wonders what it would be like to stare at him, to never close her eyes. She doesn’t know what she wants, how she got here in the first place.

She can feel him edging closer, his head angling to sweep down on her, but he’s still waiting for a signal from her.

_Just do it, just do it. Jump_ , she thinks.

She stops thinking and jumps.

She’s always liked to initiate things. She feels powerful when she launches herself headfirst into a daunting task. She never thought that daunting task would ever be him.

She covers his mouth with hers, quick as lightning, lips slightly parted and cresting over his Cupid’s bow, lingering there for a moment of blank electricity before she jerks back, awed at her own intrepid actions.

She has seconds to recover. That wasn’t really a kiss, just a rapid collision of fragile parts. And they’re both reeling from the contact, but it’s not over. It's not done. They have to get it right. They can’t leave it unfinished. Jughead’s eyes are dark with a need to see this through, a need to feel her lips on his like a seal. 

He glides forward and his hair tickles the side of her cheek as he captures her mouth, brushing his tongue against her seams out of instinct. She tastes exactly as he thought she would; cranberries and nutmeg, bitter sweet spice. She moves her lips against his, feeling the softness and the steel underneath, the mixture of youth and experience. The tips of their tongues tease each other lightly, but they never let them meet. Both their eyes are closed and they haven’t taken a breath since the beginning. Each time their mouths come apart, the air feels like static. Before they break away, their lips brush each other one last time, as if saying goodbye.

And then it’s over. She lets go of his jacket with a jolt and he removes his hand from her arm as if her skin were on fire.

They both fall back in their seats with ragged breaths.

Jughead runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes momentarily.

Veronica can’t close her eyes. She grips the handle of her seat until her knuckles turn white. She has to gather her bearings. She counts back from fifty.

Eventually, their breathing resumes to a steady rhythm, enough that they can sneak a glance at each other. They both look overwhelmed, but afraid of admitting it.

Her pride, his stubbornness.

Jughead raises his hand to his mouth. She does the same. They both wipe their lips at the same time. Her lipstick doesn’t smear. She wore a resistant kind for the occasion.

They both sit with their hands in their laps, unable to move, staring blankly forward.

“Did we…level out the moral plane?” she asks at length, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I – I believe so,” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing rather haphazardly. “But some time will tell. We’ll see on Monday.”

The mention of Monday reminds them both of school, of Riverdale, the outside world. It’s fully dark outside, and since they’re on the outskirts of town, only a few dim lights twinkle in the distance. Out here, you could very well think you’re the only two people alive.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says after a weighted silence.

“No,” she interjects quickly, hand flying to her throat. “You can’t. We can’t be seen together. You have to take me back to the motel. I’ll call for a cab there.”

“Oh. Right,” he says dryly. It’s uncharacteristic of him to have forgotten this. Lucky for them, her head is in the game. Or what’s left of it.

They both turn towards the backseat at the same time.

“I just wanted to get your bag-” he mumbles.

“That’s fine, I can reach it.”

“No, let me –”

“Jughead.”

“Veronica.”

Their names feel like ciphers on their lips.

She concedes and lets him retrieve her bag. He places it carefully on her lap without touching her, and she feels a small shiver run down her legs.

The aftermath of their experiment should feel awkward and coarse, and while there is plenty of blundering and unease, there is also this strange physical undercurrent - a lightheaded feeling - as if they haven’t yet kissed. As if they’re still about to. 

Their drive back to Shady Palm Motel is entirely silent, but it feels like they’re always about to say something, only it keeps slipping away.

She is confident this feeling will pass and the buzz of their “tryst” will wear off. It was only a kiss. Nothing too earth-shattering. It must be the _strangeness_ of the event that has them both so thrown.

Once she’s on the right side of the tracks again and in Archie’s arms, things will fall back into place. He also hopes that now he will be ready to return to Betty.

It’s only a matter of time. They’ll know by Monday.

 

 

She doesn’t say goodbye when she steps out of the Chevrolet. She only looks over her shoulder briefly and nods. He nods back.

It’s only when she’s left that he realizes he still hasn’t put his hat back on. The rebellious locks of hair feel foreign on his forehead.

And, _shit_.

Her brooch – her priceless brooch is still on his dashboard.

Jughead wants to call back after her, but she’s already hailing down a cab.

He grips the brooch between his fingers, staring at its glittering iridescence. It seems to mock him. It seems to know exactly what he feels. 


	3. guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not sure about this chapter except that i got MAJOR feels writing it because THESE TWO. i hope you'll agree lol. this one's mostly from jughead's point of view and BOY do i love his denial and rationalizing. I LOVE IT. anyway, drop me your thoughts! let's suffer together!
> 
> OH, i forgot to mention, i started writing this fic way before that 2x13 promo so yes, I may be an X-men.
> 
> (omg, i had to rectify a Nolan reference, shame on me)

Jughead Jones III doesn’t like Veronica Lodge as a whole. He may like _some_ things about her. For instance, it takes balls to still dress up as Jackie Kennedy’s ghost and flaunt it like you don’t care. And sure, her predilection for quoting Capote is pretty fun. She’s a good sport when the gang needs her to be. But that’s just surface-level stuff. He doesn’t know what’s behind the brooch. He doesn’t really want to know.

He holds the damn thing in his hand, as if weighing a piece of her, seeing how much it’s worth.

What he doesn’t like about Veronica Lodge, actually, is that she is transitory. One day she will go back to New York, back to that Park Avenue glamor life. Not because she’s materialistic, although sure, let’s not discard her ample collection of pearls and Birkin’s. It’s more than that, though. It’s part of her nature. Keeping her here is like keeping a plant out of the sun. She may pretend she’s become a native, she may try her very hardest to get rid of old habits. But it’s like denying your own blood. He’s a Serpent, he should know.

So what’s the point of dwelling on this? Merely to state the fact that you can’t like someone who is already one foot out the door. There’s no point investing.  In their case, they won’t be in each other’s lives for very long. And they won’t remember each other after they’re gone.

This was an odd blip in their otherwise separate lives.

And it will never happen again.

 

 

But shit. He didn’t prepare for the whiplash of walking down the hallway Monday morning and seeing her with Archie.

She is standing next to his locker and Archie's got one buff arm around her, squeezing her tiny waist while she drums her manicured fingers against his chest. It's like they're getting ready for picture day. 

A half-smile plays at the corner of those dark lips as she whispers sweet nothings in her boyfriend's ear... and it’s only been like ten hours since he put his mouth on hers, so this just feels fucking eerie. 

Veronica almost jolts away from Archie when she sees him. Her smile falters for a moment. Just a moment. And it never _quite_ recovers, but she does her best to make it look convincing. In fact, she flashes Jug a wide, confident grin to compensate for her lack of grace.

He nods back emphatically, waving at both of them.

They did it. This is their thing now and Betty and Archie can’t take it away. They’ll never know.

It makes his stomach flip like a coin.

 

 

Still, there’s whiplash. Because all three of them sit together in the lounge during half-term break and Archie’s got Veronica on his lap, dragging his knuckles absently across her thigh. Jughead never realized just how much _touch_ there’s involved between couples. For example, when he and Betty were together, they’d go days without kissing or holding hands because you know, he was secure in his relationship, he didn’t need to _constantly_ affirm it. Not that this is what Archie’s doing. Ah hell, he should stop analyzing.

Veronica is twirling her hair with an absent look in her eye.

“Something wrong, V?” her boyfriend asks with gushing concern.

"Why do you ask, Archiekins?"

Oh, yeah. That overused nickname. Jughead cracks his knuckles, wishing Kevin or Betty would show up already.

"You just seem out of it. You weren't paying attention in class either."

"Well, well. Look who's monitoring me."

"Force of habit," Archie grins.

Veronica shrugs with a smile. “I'm just contemplating a few moral choices I’ve made lately.”

Jug is pretty sure the back of his neck is burning. He doesn’t dare to look at her.

“What do you mean?” Archie asks with a frown.

“It’s just difficult to…navigate the capricious waters of the Lodge family at the moment. My father is on a mission to invalidate the progress I’ve made this year.”

Jughead breathes a sigh of relief.  He should probably show more sympathy for her daddy issues, but…Hiram Lodge is trying to dispossess his Serpent family. And he can’t juggle too many emotions right now.

“Sometimes I fear about reverting to old, bitchy Veronica,” she mumbles, staring at her nails.

Archie kisses her shoulder pointedly. “You won’t. But it doesn’t matter to me. I like _all_ the Veronicas, old and new.”

“Trust me…you wouldn't like them all,” she says softly, and she sneaks a look at Jughead. It’s barely a second, but he catches the haze of guilt in her eyes.

His stomach flips again and there’s a ticking in his jaw. Nervous habit. He wants to scratch it away. He doesn’t want Veronica’s conscience on _his_ conscience. He doesn’t want this to have ramifications. The whole point of their "tryst" was to move on.

“You’re just getting jitters because your Confirmation is coming up,” Archie says, rubbing her back consolingly.

Veronica blanches a little. “Oh. You’re right. It _is_ coming up.”

“Confirmation?” Jughead asks, and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“Catholic ritual to strengthen the bond with Christ,” she replies, rising from Archie’s lap and settling on the sofa’s edge. He can hear the unease in her voice. “It’s the second and final stage of baptizing. I was supposed to have it when I was twelve, but we never got round to it."

"What does it entail?" he asks, because he suddenly really wants to know. 

"I have to…renounce Satan and all his works, have my confession taken, and perform some acts of charity.”

And a really shitty part of him which he (probably) inherited from his dad thinks to himself, _hey, you got the charity out of the way._

“You’ll do great. I’ll be cheering for you all the way,” Archie assures her, like the solid golden-star boyfriend that he is.

“Jughead will be there too,” he adds, as if that could possibly make her feel better. “We all will.”

Veronica smiles a tight smile. “That means so much to me.”

And only Jug can hear the sarcasm. It almost makes his lips twitch.

 

 

Betty corners him on the way to lunch. She wants to investigate the disappearance of General Pickens’ head. Jughead has to take a moment to remember. Fuck, yeah that should be his priority. Lots of fingers are pointing at him and the Serpents right now. Why is his head wrapped up in some stupid drama when there’s real life to deal with? Besides, his goal is to spend more time with Betty. He wants to start fresh, he wants to make things right. He wants to tell her it’s okay she kissed Archie, he’s over it, he made _sure_ of that.

But somehow, the most literate person in Riverdale can’t come up with anything more eloquent than, “uhh, just give me a day to regroup.”

Regroup. What the hell does that mean?

Well, it means he can’t start fresh until he finishes with the old.

He’s got V's brooch in his school bag.

 

 

They meet at Pop’s after ten in the evening and it feels clandestine and a little immature.  This is exactly the kind of messy aftermath they had been trying to avoid.

“You left this in the car,” and he pushes the brooch across the table.

Veronica snatches it as if it were a glittering proof of their misconduct. Which, yeah.

She props her elbows on the table. It’s a classic “Ronnie” move. She looks like she’s about to talk business, but she’s actually shielding herself from whatever’s about to hit her.

“Are you okay, Lodge? You looked like you were about to crack back there.” She can prop up her elbows all she wants, he’s got sardonic humor on his side. All kids are weaponized these days. 

"We may have picked the wrong time to kiss,” she says, ignoring his comment. “What with my Confirmation and everything…how am I supposed to get up there and pretend I’m innocent?”

Jughead suppresses a groan. “It’s called Catholic guilt and you just have to repress it. I’m sure that’s how most of Italy copes. Besides, what do you have to feel guilty for?”

"Are you serious?" 

He shrugs. "I mean, what did you do wrong?"

“I’m not in the mood for your rendition of Guy Pearce in _Memento_ ,” she bristles.

“Killing my fictional wife is not the same as kissing you,” he replies and that shitty part of him wonders what other early Christopher Nolan movies she’s seen.

“Not to you. You and Betty are on a Sabbatical or whatever you want to call it. But _I_ cheated on my boyfriend.”

“No, you didn’t,” he insists, stabbing the table with his finger. “Cheating would imply that the kiss meant more than a settling of scores. Which it didn’t.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know _that_.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I have to go to my confessional on Friday where I have to confess all my wrongdoings.”

“What, and you want to tell a priest we kissed?” he asks, half incredulous, half riveted. Because hell, how would that go? 

Veronica bites her lower lip and turns her head towards the window.

“You…did nothing wrong,” he reiterates, swallowing the bitterness on his tongue. “It was my idea, remember? I coerced you.”

She rolls her eyes at that. “You didn’t force me to be in that car. You didn’t hold a gun to my head. When you...leaned forward, I did too. I was a willing participant.”

 _A willing participant._ He’s always found her way of speaking a little too precious, a little too Lady Bracknell in disguise. So it really shouldn’t stir anything in him right now. 

His voice catches a little. “Sure, I didn’t force you per se, but you felt obligated-”

 “ _No_ ,” she interrupts stubbornly. “Stop trying to spin this. I _wanted_ to do it.”

That definitely stops him short. His throat actually dries up,

Veronica busies herself with her gold cufflinks. “Obviously, for the same reasons _you_ wanted to do it.”

They sit in unfriendly silence for a while.

“Maybe we did pick the wrong time,” he mumbles and his thumb unconsciously traces the seam of his lip.

Veronica stares.

“We could have just pecked. I don’t know why we…had to be thorough,” she says, and there’s a trace of laughter in her voice, even though she’s not amused.

“Because that’s who we are. Thorough,” he says dryly.

“ _Very_ thorough,” she underlines, and her eyes glaze over as if a film has fallen over them, and he can _tell_ that she’s remembering the kiss and he wants to launch himself into space. Because everything is still vivid and contaminated, and she’s sitting right _there_.

And for some dumb reason, he tries to cover it up with humor.

“Was it good, at least?” he chuckles.

Wrong, very wrong thing to say. The wrong-est. He can literally feel himself collapsing. He expects her to school him with a well-timed remark. He deserves it.

But instead, her hand just sort of spastically combs through her hair and her lips do a funny twitch, like she’s trying to swallow her own lipstick.

And holy shit, it all clicks into place. _That’s_ why she feels guilty.

She enjoyed it. 

Jughead inhales sharply. He feels all the blood rushing to his head. He can still taste it, cranberries and nutmeg. She may be transitory, but she’ll make the memory stick.

And just to see her so flustered because of _him_ , it does things to him he wasn’t aware of. Maybe it’s just his ego, maybe a remnant of toxic masculinity, he doesn’t fucking know. But he wants to hear her _say_ it.

Of course, that would be ludicrous. They’re in love with other people. Stupid fucking hormones don’t count.

Even if – even if he also enjoyed the kiss.

But objectively speaking, any guy would have enjoyed the kiss. Veronica Lodge is objectively kissable. 

She clears her throat a little too aggressively. “Everything will go back to normal once my Confirmation is done. But you can’t be there. Find an excuse.”

He nods shakily. 

He doesn’t know how to get back on track. A few months ago, he would have considered her a distant satellite. Now, for some reason, she seems to be invading the atmosphere.

That’s the problem with tight-knit groups; two people always end up on the fringe. He’d never had to hang out with her alone for an extended period of time. They should’ve taken things slowly instead of jumping straight to… _this_. It’s daunting. And slightly intoxicating.

But he loves Betty. And she loves Archie, and they’re both very thorough.

This will pass. Who knows, it might just be an awkward stage in their so-called “friendship”. Something they’ll laugh about later.

And then Veronica says, “God. This feels like a juvenile version of  _Jules et Jim_.”

He can’t help asking. “You watch Truffaut?”

She rolls her eyes. “The constant tone of surprise. Contrary to what you may think, you’re not the only Art House fan in America.”

He breaks into a smile that's almost painful, that takes something out of him.

(He doesn't realize the feeling in his chest is that moment you realize she's perfect for you, but it can never be.)

He wants to apologize for this whole  _thing_ , but he can’t quite bring himself to do it. Because if he apologizes now, then it all becomes real. The things left unsaid, the things that happened in that car.

“I should go see about a statue head,” he says, checking his phone. He’s already got several texts from Betty.

“And I have to prepare for my sacrament.”

But they don’t rise immediately. They sit in that booth for a few seconds more, trying to come to terms with something that doesn’t have a name between them.

 

 

She’s transitory and she doesn’t really belong here. But he realizes he sort of craves that – to not be only one thing, to not be in only one place.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm EXCITE about next chapter because there will be a very fraught fight and a SCENE and i will be GONE, probably.


	4. Cecilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's like 5 AM over here and I'm posting a new chapter even though I have to teach tomorrow - what else is new??  
> So this follows the events of 2x12, aka the episode where Veronica has her Confirmation. But you know this is AU so some events are pretty different. I'm probably also gonna change a bunch of stuff about future episodes, because I can't say I'm thrilled with the show's direction right now. For those of you who encouraged and pestered me to update, thank u, ily! And thank you for your lovely comments on here; they make this whole updating at the crack of dawn worth the effort.  
> Oh yeah, excuse any typos, misspellings, it's the crack of dawn lol

The white dress is a time-turner. She puts it on and she’s cast back to the halcyon days of her childhood when privilege and money and responsibility were only play-words to be tossed around while she was having tea with her dolls.

Veronica turns sideways on the pedestal, examining her image in the mirror. She yearns for something inexpressible; she is nostalgic for a moment that never happened: her confirmation.

 _Well, it will happen tomorrow_ , she thinks with trepidation.

The past has been flung into the future.  How does she feel about this?

Not very good. The white dress makes her reminisce, but it doesn’t allow her to forget. She hasn’t been behaving well. For all her self-appointed promises that she was turning a new leaf, she is still stuck in her old ways.  She’s harboring her family’s secrets, turning a blind eye to her father’s shady dealings and has kissed the one boy that should be off-limits; Jughead Jones.  

How can she be honest with herself when all of these things hang in the balance?

“Wow, you look beautiful.”

Veronica turns around too fast, as if caught doing something illicit. She almost falls off the pedestal, but her boyfriend is there to catch her.

Archie wraps a hand around her waist and pulls her down. His eyes regard her with the kind of blank adoration that she’s often seen in her _father_ when she was younger.

The thought disturbs her for a moment. Archie has been spending an awful lot of time with Hiram. They might’ve rubbed off on each other.

God, she’s not developing an Elektra’s complex, is she? That would be so clichéd.

She snorts to herself.

“What’s so funny, V?” he asks, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Nothing,” she murmurs, kissing him back, thinking that Jughead would have found it funny too.

 

 

(she goes to her final confession, but she doesn’t tell the benevolent Monsignor anything about her nightly activities with a certain Southside Serpent) 

 

 

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

Betty has him cornered in the news room. He is pretending to type a mile a minute. His eyes shift nervously from the screen to her face.

What he always loved and hated about Betty was her ability to crowd so much emotion into every feature of her face.

“I’m gonna be busy writing an article about Southside High. Besides, Veronica won’t want me there.”

“ _I_ want you there,” Betty insists, leaning over the desk - _looming_ to be precise. “Jug, you said you want us to work.”

“I did. I _do_.”

“Veronica is my best friend. This is an important moment for her and I want you to be there with me to share it.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a ritual that her dad is making her go through because Patriarchy or whatever –”

“Jug! That’s not the point. You’re being disrespectful. Veronica wants to do this and we have to support her.”

 “Do we? If she wanted to jump off a cliff would we join her?” he bites back. Admittedly, his tone is less argumentative and more sardonic.

“I know she’s not your favorite person, but –”

Jughead cringes internally. Yeah, she’s definitely at the bottom of the list of people he _kissed_.

Betty leans down to his level until her eggshell blue-eyed face is inches away from his.

“– but she’s _your_ friend too.”

“When did that happen?” he wonders out loud.

“Don’t be like that, Jug. You know you like her.”

He scoffs, feeling the tension building at the base of his spine. “ _Like_ her. I tolerate her, at best.”

Betty frowns. “Has she done anything to upset you lately?”

Christ. He has to change the tempo of this conversation _fast_. “No, but her father sure will if he keeps messing with Southside business.”

Betty folds her arms with a weary sigh. She’s been doing that a lot lately. He doesn’t like the fact that most of their interactions so far have consisted of drawn-out sighs and petty interrogations. He has to be better at this. They love each other, after all.

“I don’t think I’m asking too much,” she says with a sad smile. “I want us to be a unit again. We used to be a team, Jug. I…need to know we can count on each other. I need to know you won’t bail on me.”

“Betty, I…I won’t bail on you, why would you think that?”

She bites her lip. “You’re doing it right now. Because you’re still mad at me. Mad about the kiss.”

“ _What_?”  He rises from the chair precipitately, knocking and almost breaking one of the staplers in the process. “You think _that’s_ the reason I don’t want to come to this thing?”

“What other reason _do_ you have except avoiding me and Archie?” Betty asks, point-blank.

And shit. He can’t come up with anything that wouldn’t betray him.

 

 

The thing is, he _could_ have. He could have spun a good lie. He could’ve come up with some last-minute emergency that would’ve made it impossible to attend the confirmation. Hell, his life is no merry-go-round; people would believe him if he said he had to go deal with his family.

Yeah, Betty would want to know specifics. She _always_ does. 

Still, he could’ve fooled her. He could’ve made a bigger effort. Because they’ve only been together for a few months - on and off - and she doesn’t know the side of him that lies and conceals and embellishes. The one that got him through most of freshman year.

Yet somehow, he gives up the fight. She considers his attendance as part of his boyfriend duties, so he must go.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to lose her again.

But the uncomfortable and petty truth lurking underneath it all is that he _wants_ to go to Veronica’s confirmation, despite the promise he made her. He _wants_ to see her decked out in her virginal dress with the rosary beads clenched between her fingers. He wants to hear her sing those hallowed hymns and kneel before the priest and pledge herself to the Lord. He wants to witness the spectacle.

It’s only the curiosity of a writer. Writers seek new experiences.

Veronica has little to do with it. Of course.

 

 

It’s silly, she shouldn’t be so nervous. Veronica is a prosaic person at heart. Her beliefs are constantly changing, constantly being remodeled by her circumstances. It’s been hard to keep faith, given her family’s fall from grace. She has learned to be pragmatic out of necessity.

But one look at the congregation gathered there for her and the long walk to the nave and she feels her knees going weak.

She inhales sharply and counts back from ten.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. She takes one step, then another down the aisle. She smiles and bows her head demurely to familiar faces in the seats. This is just like any social event, except it isn’t.

It feels like Judgment Day.

And then she sees him. Or rather she sees the back of his hatless head.

She blinks several times, doubting her own sharp senses.

I mean, she _told_ him _specifically_ not to show up. She told him he _couldn’t_ be here.

He wouldn’t be that stupid. He wouldn’t –

Veronica’s nostrils flare. She almost misses a step. People assume it’s just her being nervous.

She keeps smiling, though her cheeks hurt from the effort.

The bastard showed up. There he is, huddled low in his seat with Betty’s arm around his elbow.

She can’t believe this.

She passes by their pew and tries very hard not to glare in his direction. Betty beams at her candidly, and next to her, Archie gives her his most winning smile.

They’re both oblivious to the palpable discord between their romantic partners.

Jughead trains his eyes on the floor mosaic, not lifting his head until she has safely passed their seats.

But the ceremony has lost some of its grandeur. Veronica is no longer afraid. She’s _angry_.

She walks up to the nave mechanically, standing beside a puzzled-looking Josie.

“Hey, are you okay?” she stage-whispers.

“I’m fine.” And she doesn’t even pause before starting on the first verse of _Bittersweet Symphony._

Josie chimes in quickly, but she’s clearly disconcerted by Veronica’s aggressive beginning.

“ _No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,_ _but I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold_ ,” they both sing, sweeping the congregation.

Veronica feels the lyrics seeping into her skin like a tattoo. No, maybe she can’t change. And Jughead’s not making it any easier. _Why_ is he here?

Afterwards, things go by in a blur and she doesn’t feel present for most of it. She just feels an imperative need to get out of this dress.

She takes the sacrament from the priest and lets his thumb mark the cross on her forehead with the scented myrrh.

And then her abuelita is standing next to her, holding her waist, keeping her upright. The priest asks her,

“Do you, Veronica Cecilia Lodge, renounce Satan and all his evil works? And do you walk in the light of the Lord?”

The question seems to echo and multiply across the church.

Everyone is staring at her expectantly.

And for the first time since the ceremony began, Jughead lifts his head and looks right at her. His expression is different from the rest, more calculating and attentive. He doesn’t necessarily expect her to say, “I do”. Meanwhile, Archie lifts his eyebrows with a smile, as if to say, _what are you waiting for?_

Veronica smiles, though she feels cold inside.

“I do,” she replies, and her eyes inevitably stray to Jughead again.

He stares back like he doesn’t believe her.

 

 

To his credit, he doesn’t mingle with the rest of the party. In fact, he makes it a point to haunt the upstairs floor, leaning against the banister like he’s been banned from the proceedings.

Which, he has in a way.

He was standing by the buffet when Veronica swooshed past him in her pristine white dress, her abuelita and Archie in tow, and her withering glare was enough to send him packing.

Betty finds him staring moodily at the party-goers.

“Hey…why are you hiding up here?”

“I don’t feel welcome, per se. Plus, I have stuff on my mind.”

“Serpent stuff?”

“Yeah,” he lies.

It’s half a lie. He should not be thinking about Veronica glaring at him. He _should_ be thinking how he’ll handle Penny’s return into his life. He hasn’t told Betty what he did to her, how he and the Serpents grabbed her, how he cut her. How he kind of enjoyed it. He’s not ready to tell her, not because Betty can’t handle his “darkness”. She’s survived her fair share of demons. But that’s just it. Betty Cooper doesn’t need more fucked-up shit in her life. The fact that she’ll always be on his side and share the brunt of his problems doesn’t make him happy. He’s always felt this instinctive need to protect her, because she might break.

It’s not fair to her. But he’s not ready…Ready to what? Be honest? Become a good boyfriend again?

Before he can come up with anything credible to say, Betty’s phone starts ringing.

“Yes, this is she. Yes, we put up those flyers,” she speaks into the phone.

She looks up at Jughead hopefully. “We got a lead for the statue head!”

“Let’s go,” he says, feeling more relieved than he should.

 

 

When all is said and done, he feels more exhausted than victorious.

Jughead collapses on his couch with a resounding sigh.

It was Tall Boy who stole the statue head, who was sabotaging the Serpents, trying to remove him and his dad from power. Classic underhanded coup. He should’ve seen it coming. But his head hasn’t been in the game lately.

He rubs his eyes tiredly. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he’ll get his shit together. He’ll call Betty, set up a date. Actually, he’ll take her to dinner to thank her for her help. He wouldn’t have found the head without her.

He could _see_ she was disappointed when he didn’t invite her up to his trailer, but he’s in no goddamn shape to get into the nitty-gritty of their relationship right now.

And yeah, a part of him fears that everything would spill out. Including his kiss with…

There’s a sharp knock on the door. More like a bang. Like someone is slamming their palm against it.

_Uh-oh._

A part of him knows who it is before even opening it.

_“¿Como te atreves a aparecer alli, idiota? ¿Eres estupido? ¡Te dije que no vinieras! Tirate a un poso, me harias un favor.”_

The rush of Spanish comes at him with such force he can only step aside as she marches into his trailer, knocking him out of the way with her purse.

He has never heard her speak so much in her mother tongue and it is both frightening and…oddly invigorating. Like he’s seeing a new side to her. The hellion unleashed.

 “Veronica –”

_“¡Callate cuando hablo! ¡Tienes suerte de que no te mate ahora!”_

He raises his hands in a show of surrender, but her torrent of verbal abuse seems to have no end.

She’s in the middle of calling him a pig - or at least he _thinks_ it’s a pig, his Spanish needs some brushing up – when she pauses for a second, looks him up and down and bursts out in English,

“And _why_ are you wearing suspenders, for God’s sake?”

Jughead stares down at himself. He forgot to get out of his formal wear and now he feels really stupid.

“Was that for me?” she drawls, eyes sparking with rage. “Did you dress up with the express purpose of _ruining_ my Confirmation?”

 “Look, Betty twisted my arm. She practically forced me to come, I couldn’t say no –”

“Oh, _spare_ me. You’ve told her no plenty of times before.”

“Yeah, and we ended up broken-up.”

“So now I should care more about _your_ relationship than the state of my _soul_?”

“Okay, that’s a little overdramatic –”

“I’ll show _you_ overdramatic!” and she raises her purse to hit him.

Jughead ducks out in time. “Okay, okay, sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. I _told_ you not to come. Because of you, I had to stand there and lie in front of the priest. The whole ceremony, it was all for nothing!”

Jughead stares at her heart-shaped face and those dark, stormy eyes, the way they swell with controlled emotion. Unlike Betty, she is not exactly an open book. She only lets you see what she wants you to see. It’s enough for him to falter.

“It wasn’t all for nothing. You meant it, didn’t you? When you said, _I do_?”

“Not with you staring at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like you were expecting me to fail.”

“That’s not what I was–”

“Then what _were_ you doing? _Why_ did you come?”

“I don’t know! Is that a good enough answer for you? I don’t know!” he retorts, losing his head momentarily. It’s been a long day and – and something about snapping back at her feels good.

“Some writer you are, you don’t even understand yourself,” she spits, flushed with anger. “You know what I think? I think you’re trying to punish Betty and I’m the next best thing.”

“Punish Betty? What the hell are you –”

“You’re looking for ways to sabotage your own relationship, _using_ me as part of the stratagem. Like _I’m_ supposed to be the excuse for why you and her are having problems.”

Jughead feels a vein throbbing against his temples. Okay, kid gloves off.

“Really? You want to talk relationships? When’s the last time you and Archie had a conversation that didn’t involve getting naked?”

The color drains from her face. She marches towards him to slap him, but he catches her wrist in time. She tugs at her hand, but he doesn’t let go.

“You don’t get to talk about that. You’ve always been insecure about Archie. Let go of me.”

He does, and she plants a hand into his chest, shoving him backwards. “You can’t stand the fact that Archie kissed _your_ girl, so you went and kissed _his_ girl. That’s what happened. It was never about leveling the moral plane for you; it was always about petty revenge.”

Jughead’s eyes darken. He clicks his jaw shut in anger.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she asks, lowering her eyes to his mouth.

“Then why did you do it, if you knew all along?” he retorts, a muscle flickering under his eye.

“You said you wanted to do it,” he persists. “You said I didn’t coerce you.”

“Maybe I took pity on you,” she says with narrowed eyes.

Jughead laughs a cold laugh. “You’re more transparent than that, Lodge. And more insecure too. You don’t think you can keep Archie by your side. You think he’ll run into Betty’s arms the moment he realizes who you really are. So why not hurt him with his best friend?”

Veronica shoves him again, putting more strength in her palms.

“ _Cabron_.”

“Spoiled brat,” he retorts. His feet hit the back of the couch and he falls down, but he grabs her arm and pulls her with him.

The move unsettles her. She crashes into him inelegantly, straddling him as her hands land on his suspenders.  Her coat flares open in front of her and before registering anything else, Jughead sees that she’s still wearing the white dress underneath.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks with perfect eloquence. And then he stops thinking.

His hand is at the back of her neck, fingers cupping her jaw and she leans down with the same terrible instinct.

They kiss like this is a part of their fight. Their mouths collide in muted distress, pouring their frustration on their tongues. It’s not like their first kiss, all hesitant and gentle and new. They skip over the preliminary intimacy and adolescent yearning and dive straight into an angry, almost frenzied attack. She tugs on his suspenders; he wrenches the coat from her shoulders. She slips her fingers into his hair, causing electricity, and his hands rove over the back of her white dress, profaning it, making it his.

They want to break apart, but they also can’t get enough of each other. And whoever stops first loses. Whoever concedes is the weaker party. So they keep going, drunk on their pride and desire, lips marking skin and teeth tearing flesh, growing familiar in their violence. 

Veronica grinds against his lap, making him groan. His mouth leaves a hot trail against the side of her jaw and she sighs in complete abandon. 

It’s so different from kissing Betty; it’s so different from kissing Archie.

They don’t have to hold back, and they don’t have to pretend. They're both insecure, both too bitter for anyone else's taste but their own. 

It’s only when his hands stray to her thighs and his thumb brushes underneath her skirt that something caves in for both of them.

They break away. Jughead lets her go and she lands clumsily next to him on the couch, disheveled and breathless.

She smooths down her dress in a vain effort to appear presentable. As if there’s an audience watching. Jughead runs a hand through his unruly hair, as if to discard her recent touch. 

They both stare widely in front of them, paralyzed by the enormity of their actions.

Minutes tick by in oppressive silence.

Veronica’s eyes wander to the pile of books on the table.

She picks out a volume with shaking hands. Raymond Carver’s _What We Talk About When We Talk About Love_.

“Of course you like minimalism,” she says in a strange, friendless tone.

“You read it?” he asks, still in aftershock. 

She nods. “Can’t say it was my cup of tea." A strained pause. "Did you know it was actually Carver’s editor who did all the work? His original prose was actually much more…elaborate. His editor had to parse it down. So, minimalism is a fraud movement, if you think about it.”

She doesn’t know why she feels compelled to give him this information, why she feels compelled to talk at all.

Maybe she wants to tear down all his heroes.

Jughead stares at her like she’s grown a second head.

“What?” she demands.

“You…” he trails off, unable to finish his thought. She’s too much for him, too much like him.

He lunges forward again, impelled by an invisible force, and captures her mouth against his.

Yeah, they already fucked up, what’s one more?

But that’s the thing – one more is how you get in trouble.  

Veronica responds briefly, hesitantly, caressing the side of his face. He feels his heart contract. It was easier when they were fighting.

They part again, feeling flustered. He thinks, _there was no excuse for that one._ He also thinks, _this would be a scene Carver would write about._

“Well, you were right,” he mumbles, straightening his suspenders. “Your Confirmation is kind of a bust now.”

And instead of railing at him, instead of telling him he’s a bastard for making jokes, she laughs. She laughs like it’s the end of the world and she finds it funny. She scrunches up her face in pain and laughs. After a few beats, he joins her.

They’re both terribly amused by their own mistakes. What else can they do?

They fall back on the couch. Their heads recline against the backseat and they stare at each other for a while, the echo of laughter in their ears.

“ _Tenemos un problema_ ,” she tells him, at length.

And he knows exactly what she means.

 

 

She fixes her lipstick in the mirror, hiding any evidence of the kiss.

He watches her, arrested by the coordinated movement of her fingers.

All of this feels grown-up, feels way beyond their tender maturity.

He holds the coat for her and draws it carefully over her shoulders, his breath on the back of her neck. Her spine tingles.

“See you in school,” she says, hauling her purse over her arm. She stares at his chest instead of his eyes.

“Yeah, um…see you.”

She walks past him and his fingers brush against her momentarily. He wants to tell her to stay, if only so they can talk about this.

But he knows words would betray them. And he also knows they might end up on the couch again.

“I’ll text you,” he mumbles, running another helpless hand through his hair.

Veronica smiles sardonically in the doorway. “I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

 

 

The only fucking thing he can think of texting at her at 3 AM in the morning is,

_I didn’t know your middle name is Cecilia._

Veronica cradles the phone against the pillow. She can’t sleep either. She texts back.

_Why would you?_

And he thinks about that for a long time.

How he doesn’t have a reason or a right to know her, but he does. He does. And he’s thankful for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo, things are gonna get more dramatic next chapter because Hiram Lodge is up to no good, as well know. what will our Romeo and Juliet do? hopefully, more kissing. stay tuned!
> 
> (forgot to mention that "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" is the volume Jughead's reading in 2x14, so I thought it'd be a nice tie-in. plus, my dorks are intellectuals)


End file.
